


Tickle the stars with you

by GreyWeeknds



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWeeknds/pseuds/GreyWeeknds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is freakishly in love with his best friend Niall, but when Niall gets a new boyfriend, he starts to change. He is not the same boy that he used to sit on the rooftop with, tickling the stars with their index fingers, as they would talk until the sun would rise. </p><p>     But when everything seems to be better, it turns out that it’s not. He starts to get a small glimpse from how Niall used to look at himself, and Harry doesn’t like that at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tickle the stars with you

 

     Harry glances at Niall at first. He wonders if he’s actually being serious, or if he is just joking, because he can’t be, not now, not again. He’s standing there, his arm around the long torso, as he leans his head against the crook of the tanned neck. Harry wants to tear away Niall’s grip around the taller kid, he wants to shout to the stranger to go home, that he’s not welcomed inside these doors. He wants to scream to Niall that he’s pathetic, that it’s ridicules that he’s sniffing the scent of this man that he has obviously not known more than a few weeks. But when Niall turns his gaze from the guy he’s holding to Harry, looking at him with two watery silver blue eyes, sparkling like fireworks, Harry can’t say no. Instead he rants over and over again inside his own head to ignore how much his stomach hurts when he sees Niall’s hand cupped softly inside the other bloke’s. That it doesn’t matter that he looks at the tanned boy like he has just bought him the whole world, including all the rocks with diamonds and rubies, and the sun too, because he’s happy, and Harry can’t be the dick that wipes the smile from that pale face. So he just forces out his hand to the guy, vomiting inside his own mouth as he accepts Harry’s hand, and shakes it gladly. All Harry can think about is that he wants to take a needle and sew his lips together so that he can never again kiss the blonde.

     “This is Zayn, my new boyfriend.” He states, as he looks pleadingly after recognition in Harry’s green orbs. “Isn’t he perfect?”

     His gaze jumps from Zayn to Harry, and then backs to Zayn again. Every time that he looks into the amber eyes, Niall melts. Like a popsicle in the summer, he just kind of transfers to a big puddle on the floor. He’s clutching Zayn’s arm, waiting for him to show the same lovely behaviour back, but it seems like he doesn’t notice it though. Because Zayn stares at Harry with this gaze that tells him that he’s checking Harry out, and that he likes what he’s seeing. It makes him shiver down his spine, wondering how a swine like him can end up with an angel like Niall.

     It’s not fair; it’s really not. Month after month he sees Niall coming with a new guy much worse than the other, to Harry’s house and presents him as his new boyfriend. Every time it breaks a piece away from his heart, but all he can do is to stand and nod against the bloke that he wants to punch the teeth out from.

     “Yeah, a real catch you’ve got there.” Harry says as he fakes a smile to his best friend.

Niall lets out the breath in his throat that he didn’t knew that he was holding as he mouths a ‘thank you’ to the green-eyed before he snatches Zayn’s plump lips with his own, forgetting about that Harry is still in the room, in his own living room for the matter of fact, as he dreams himself away in the kiss.

     When they break apart, there’s still a small strain of saliva that connects them, and it feels like a punch right into his belly. Harry feels so left out, like he’s the third wheel (technically he is that too), and all he wants to do is to lock himself up into the bathroom and cry his eyes out. He wants to write some silly lovesick poem and put it in a letter and address it to Niall. Then he wants to not send it to him as he hugs his own chest and tells himself that it’s not even worth it, that Niall will never love him the same way that he loves him. But he doesn’t, because he just stands there wishing that that strain of saliva was connected to him, not to Zayn. And the thing that hurts the most is that he knows that in just a few weeks that strain won’t mean anything. Because Niall will end up getting his heart broken by the bastard that is standing inside Harry’s mother’s house, and all Harry can do is to watch it happen and comfort him until the next guy comes along that makes Niall feel this way again.

     “You know, I’ve been thinking, and I reckon that it’s time for you to settle down with someone. Not like forever, because you’re only nineteen, but perhaps you could try to find someone to love as much as I love Zayn.” Niall half smiles, his head crooked, as he grips his boyfriend’s hand harder. “You need someone too, you know. I know that your heart is only waiting for another heart to warm up, because I know you Harry Styles, and I know what an amazing boyfriend you would be to that somebody out there that’s searching after you right now but doesn’t know it yet.”

     Harry can’t help it that he’s breaking out into a grin. He’s flattered that Niall has been thinking so much about this issue that he’s actually been preparing a mental speech before he and Zayn arrived. But then again, he’s Niall, the boy that still wanted to be his friend after everybody had gotten the news that Harry’s father was an alcoholic. The same boy that told Harry first of all, even before his own mother, that he was gay and that he was afraid that nobody would love him when they would get to know the real him and not that façade that he had build up himself. So of course he’s been overthinking about Harry’s love life, that is just how the blonde functions, and Harry is pretty happy that he has been so lucky to be the person that can say that Niall Horan is his best friend in the entire world.

     “I’ll think about it.” Harry smiles as he tugs at the older boy’s sleeve and wrinkles it. “I really promise to think about it.”

“Good, because I don’t want you to end up all alone.” Niall says as he shuts his eyes. “I’ll catch you later then, butterfly.”

     He meets Niall’s eyes one last time before he swirls with his tiny fingers a goodbye and kisses Harry at the cheek hastily, his eyelashes tickling like wings against his skin, murmuring how thankful he is that he likes Zayn. All Harry can do is to whisper back that there’s nothing to not like about the guy, that is obviously a lie; but Niall doesn’t know that.

     When the boys have left the house and Harry is left all alone, he finds himself leaning against the wall lazily as he slides down roughly, landing hardly on his arse. A quiet moan escapes his mouth as he hides his face inside his hands, his knees pressing painfully against his ribcage. He can still feel those cold lips against his skin, like nails hammered into his flesh, as he touches the freezing mark with his fingertips. It’s sticky from Niall’s chopstick,  _fruity watermelon with tiny sprinkles of glitter,_ but he can’t find himself to dry it off. Instead he takes some of it and puts it on his own mouth.

     It tastes like the lip-gloss that most girls use, but then he remembers that it’s Niall’s favourite, so it doesn’t matter what it may taste like, all that matters is that he now knows how it would be if he would be in Zayn’s position instead.

     It’s and indirect kiss, the closest that he will ever get from the thin lad, and all he can do is to enjoy it while it lasts.

     A lonely tear falls down and mixes the chopstick flavour with salt, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He licks his under lip with his tongue to make the taste last forever, but under the following ten minutes it somehow fades away and it just remains as a distant memory instead of a living moment.

-

     The smell of junk food fills his nose, hamburgers with chips, chicken nuggets, stuffs that Niall used to love. Yet Harry finds him playing with his fork on the plate without touching the greasy pizza for over ten minutes. His eyes are torn and the lava that once burned around his pupil is exchanged to a plain yellow colour instead. It’s not that they aren’t pretty anymore, because they are, they’re so damn beautiful. But he misses seeing the glistering fire in them, that’s all. They’re still night skies though, full of comets and planets, but there seems to be a few too many stars inside of them that has fallen down to the ground.

     “So, how’s it going with Zayn?” Harry asks, because really, he’s interested.

“It’s fine, I guess.” Niall mumbles, never breaking the gaze from the cheese that floats out from the pizza dough. “I just wish that I could be a bit less Niall to him.”

     Harry looks at him and wonders what the hell he’s talking about. Does he mean that his personality is too much? Because if Harry had to chose something other than his eyes that are splendid, he’d choose Niall’s bubbly boyish charm that he always use to make people fall in love with him, and not just psychically.

“What do you mean?” the brunette says, surely not getting the point that his friend wants him to understand. “Does he think that you’re clingy or something?”

     Niall suddenly stops staring at his untouched food, and instead he bores those blue oceans into his Harry’s green fields. He has never seen the blonde acting this way before, all defensively and cold, and that doesn’t feel good at all.

“Don’t play stupid.” He spits out. “I’m starting to get fat.”

     Harry looks at him, but he can’t see it. Instead he sees this tiny gorgeous body in front of him that he wants to draw his fingertips over to feel all the almost invisible freckles that he has attached onto his skin. He wants to paint on his shoulders, down to his toes, with just his own tongue as a tool. So Niall must have hit his head, because there’s not a single gram fat on his hips, he has always been very skinny, and he used to know that too. Harry’s not entirely sure when he stopped knowing that, when he got so blind that he never noticed that his friend starting to see an image of himself that wasn’t true, and that scares him.

     “Who have put that dumb idea into your head?” Harry almost shouts, yet it’s almost not above a whisper.

“Zayn. Well technically he never said that I was fat, but he did say that I’m eating far too much food, that if I want to stay as the shape I am currently, I have to cut down.”

“Well that’s easy for him to say! He’s got anorexic arms and calves with a jawline that’s so sharp that it could cut through glass.”

     He can see how Niall’s lip begins to pout, and his cheeks turns into a deep tint of crimson. His eyes doesn’t look the same, it’s like they’re just plastic instead of sapphires.

“Just pour some more salt into the wound, would you.” He sneers, and Harry decides that Niall’s face isn’t made to look this angry. He’s made to glow out laughter even when he’s not even smiling, because that’s just how he is, always hiding a laugh behind his lips. Now though, he’s not so sure anymore.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Ni. I just meant that that guy has gotten the best metabolism in the whole world, so you shouldn’t compare yourself to him, you already look great.”

     Niall’s harsh face softens, and he remembers once again why he loves him so much. It’s not just his eyes and his personality; it’s the whole Niall that he has hopelessly fallen for. He’s not sure if it’s real love, because he’s only nineteen, but then again he do knows that he does love him. He loves the way that he doesn’t realize how fucking pretty he really is, that most guys would sell their souls to look remotely as good as he does. He loves how tiny his fingers are compared to his; how his hand can swallow Niall’s in his so that there’s nothing visible but Harry’s fist. He loves that he rather gives his last money to the homeless people instead of buying himself that guitar that he’s been trying to save up for years. It doesn’t even matter that Niall will never feel the same way about him, because all Harry can think about in the minute is that he wants to punch that pretty face of Zayn’s right now.

    “You know, you gave me some good advice when you took your boyfriend to my house for the first time. I think that it’s time for me to give you some as well Nialler. Even though you might think that you love that Zayn-guy, you should never let him put you down because of your looks. If he can’t see what I see, he’s not even worth it.”

     He hasn’t even noticed the tears that have begun to stream down his face until Niall begins to dry them away with his palm. He ruffles Harry’s curls before he breaks out into a half-heartily grin, not fully reaching his eyes.

“Thanks Harry, I appreciate that a lot.”

     He knows that Niall’s lying to him straight into his face, but still he finds himself pretending that he believes every word that boy with the bleached blond locks says. He knows that it’s mean of him, that he should realize that this is only the start of Niall’s big problem. But in that minute he forgets about the reality and instead there’s nothing that’s more important than the two of them and that greasy grey pizza on the white plate.

     “Promise me that you won’t start hating Zayn for what he said, he was just trying to be nice, that’s all.” Niall pleads.

“I won’t, I promise.” He lies back, strangling that posh model boy with his bare hands inside his own mind.

“You know, his name even means beautiful in Arabic.” Niall chuckles. “He’s too bloody perfect for anyone, isn’t he?”

 _No he isn’t,_ Harry thinks,  _he’s nothing compared to you._

-

     It’s a Thursday when Niall shows up at his rooftop. He’s supposed to study for his final exams, but Niall has been forcing him out on a school night to look at the stars. He knows that he will mentally kick himself later when he’ll fails on the tests, but for the moment he really doesn’t care. It might be because he’s a bit drunk, or it might also be because he finally understands that nothing really matters, that the only thing that he lives for is the person that is sitting next to him.

     His tiny body is wrapped around Harry’s back as he rests his head against Harry’s shoulder lazily, drawing tiny butterflies on the top of his hand.

    “Do you see that star over there.” Niall says as he points at a small shining dot. “When I die, I want to be that one.”

     There aren’t that many stars on the sky that night, and he notices the way Niall seems to be a bit too much okay with talking about dying than Harry likes it to. He’s stays quiet, he notice, like he thinks that it’s better if Harry can just drown inside his own head instead of talking to him. But it isn’t, it only makes it worse. Because the more time he gets to do nothing, the more time he gets to loose himself into his dreams were he feels those soft bleached locks stuck against his cheek. He can almost feel Niall’s smaller body under his as he thrusts desperately back and forth, the smell of sex making them both dizzy as they pass out on the navy sheets.

     “When I die, I want you to be the only person that tickles my star.” Niall says as he squints his eyes and begins to stroke that star that he talked about before affectionately.

“Of course bud, I want you to be that person too.” Harry says as he hugs the smaller torso a bit too hard.

     He’s scared why Niall has begun talking about his own death all of the sudden. He’s scared that he’s beginning to loose a lot of weight. He’s scared that Niall’s ribs and hipbones are that visible that he can’t even hide them under a baggy sweatshirt anymore. He’s scared that he’s even more pale than usual. He’s scared that Niall’s eyes don’t glow anymore. And the thing that scares him the most is that he’s afraid that his friend is planning on to leave him soon without even saying a proper goodbye.

     “He broke up with me.” Niall finally admits. “He said that there was too much of me to love than he could handle.”

     Harry doesn’t know what to say, all he can do is to hold him as he sniffs loudly into Harry’s ear, the quiet windows behind their backs observing them.

“I can’t do it anymore, not this life. I’m too tired to cope this reality and expectations that everybody has on me.”

“I don’t have any expectations of you.” He says as breaks the stare from the stars and looks directly at Niall. “I just want you to be you again.”

“I know Haz, but you’re probably the only person in the goddam universe that thinks so.”

     He streaks away the hair that has stuck against Niall’s face with his own hand. He replaces the hand with his lips and presses them softly against Niall’s tiny nose, warming it up like an ice-cube in a bottle of boiling water.

     “I’ve always wanted you to be the last person that I would ever kiss, but I knew that you were too good for me. So promise me Harry, that when you find that person that you can lay your entire love on, spare a tiny bit for me, yeah?” he whispers pleadingly with two blue orbs shining like silverware to him and his breath tickling lightly against Harry’s chin.

“Ni, to me you’re not just a star, you’re my entire moon.” He says, but it just sounds like muffles since his lips are still pressed on Niall’s nose.

     He lets his lips glide down until they’re connected to Niall’s. It’s cold and stiff, but it’s the best kiss that Harry has ever experienced. He doesn’t know who the tears that falls down their cheeks belongs to, it might be both of them, because he’s been waiting for this moment in his entire life, and this might be the last time that he will ever get the chance to kiss him.

     He had been wrong about how it would taste like, because it tastes nothing like watermelon chopstick with sprinkles of glitter. Instead it tastes like toothpaste blended with the salt from their tears. He’s never even felt the scent that Niall has before, because he’s never been that close to his body to actually get the opportunity to feel it instead of that cologne that he sprays on himself. His scent fills his nostrils, and it feels like he could faint out of love just by smelling him.

     He grips Niall’s collar and presses him more close to his body than what is possible, and they turn to one instead of two living human beings. He can feel how Niall’s hands are gripping his neck desperately, and he doesn’t even care to look how close of the edge they are on the roof. All he cares about is to not disconnect them; that their strain of saliva will never be cut in half, that it will last forever.

     “You are so freakishly beautiful Niall.” He whispers into his mouth. “I love you so damn much that it hurts.”

“I love you too.” He says, but Harry’s not entirely sure if he loves him the same way that he loves Niall.

“Promise me that you’ll never leave me.”

“I won’t.” he says, but Harry knows quite well that the boy is lying to him once again.

-

     “Haz, you see that guy over there.” Grimmy says. “The one with the stag tattoo.”

Harry turns his head and looks at the stranger, his body almost screaming how embarrassed he is to be dancing around all these people that think that they are so cool, but in reality are rather pathetic and still lives in their mother’s basements.

“Yeah, I see him. What about him?”

“I dare you to blow him.” He grins mischievously.  

     Harry looks at the bloke. He is pretty handsome for a matter of a fact, not a Niall of course, but yet again, who is? He’s got baby-blue eyes with chocolate locks stuck against his sweaty forehead. He has got a round and firm butt, almost like it belongs to a black person, with two rosy round cheeks. Even though he is wearing a very tight denim jacket that is covered with pins of the pride flag, Harry is certain that when it all comes down to it, the lad isn’t that gleeful at all, that somewhere behind that innocent look, there hides a scarred child instead of a proud gay man.

“Okay, it’s a deal then.” Harry murmurs before he passes by a few dancing teens, drenched in their own sweat.

     Everything seems to be a haze full of colours, nothing is really clear. All the people around him are like moving motives on pictures, and the whole world seems to be a little bit funnier than normally. He doesn’t even care that it is probably not even real drugs that he has gotten from Grimmy this time either; that it is just some concoction once again that made him the last time end up at the ER, getting his stomach pumped. 

     At first the thin, yet curvy, teen doesn’t notice him, not until he starts to grind his body against the smaller one, arms around his chest as Harry hears a light gasp escapes his lips.

“What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to seduce you.” Harry says with a raspy voice as he moves even more possibly closer “By the way, what’s your name babe?”

“Louis, my name is L-Louis, and don’t c-call me babe.” He stammers as Harry switches his body so that his back isn’t pressed against Harry’s belly anymore.

“Louis, it’s a pretty name.”

     He doesn’t even wait for Louis’ answer, because he presses his own lips roughly against Louis’ puffy ones. He tastes like liquor and vomit, a not so charming mix. But it isn’t the worst kiss that he has ever had; there has been plenty of worse. He remembers Liam, the first guy that Harry had actually kissed. When they had exchanged saliva with each other, their noses had bumped painfully against each other. Liam had forgotten to brush his teeth, so his breath had smelled like garlic. But Harry hadn’t cared at the time, because it had been a guy that he had had a crush on, a guy that he had trusted his heart with. But he had been naïve then; too young to realize that the ones Harry loves often leaves him. So when Liam had walked out from his house that one last time, a hasty kiss and a guilty smile on his lips, Harry had sworn to himself to never give his heart to someone else again. But he had failed; because he had realized that all he had ever wanted was the guy that had always stood right beside him, the guy he called his best friend. And if that makes him to a hypocrite, he doesn’t even care to change that.

     “Come with me.” Harry whispers as his voice breaks at the last word.

“Where?” Louis wonders, as he looks worriedly at Harry.

“Outside.”

     He takes Louis’ sleeve and draws him out of the club, not mentioning what he is planning for them to do. The moment that they are out in the almost silent night, except their beating hearts that hammers in Harry’s ears, he pushes the light body hardly against the burgundy brick wall and clashes his lips on Louis’ once again. Even in the fresh air, he still tastes like shit. He reminds himself to never kiss a stranger again (a promise he will later break in the matter of twenty-seven hours).

“What do you want for me to do?”

Harry snickers before he whispers six tiny words in his ear that makes the blush on Louis’ cheeks increase.

“I want you to blow me.”

     He pushes Louis’ head down so that he is standing on his bare knees on the cold ground. Harry doesn’t even try to care about if it hurts the boy, because he is too determent to quench the sorrow in his heart (not even remembering the reason why he is even doing this).

     He can feel Louis’ soft lips around him and when he hollows his cheeks, Harry’s dick twitches out of excitement. He lets out the groan that is hiding in the back of his throat, and Louis looks up at him with two wondering eyes.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” Harry mutters. “Does it look like I’m not enjoying myself?”

     He doesn’t really remember when it was that he turned into this hole that only contains sleep, food, tears and bitterness. It must’ve been somewhere around that time that he saw Niall’s coffin being hoisted into the ground. He can still see how his tiny body had been placed in the too big wooden box, ribs sticking out in the suit, and a purple tie that made his eyes look like they had sprinkling constellations in them. He had looked so beautiful, tiny and gorgeous, and all Harry had wanted to do was to hold him in his arms forever, telling him that when he woke up, he would be the same old Niall again.

     “I’m sorry.” Louis mumbles.

“Don’t be, I’m sorry.” Harry groans and ruffles his own hair in guiltiness. “Please just continue.”

     The next day that he wakes up in Louis’ apartment, he climbs carefully and quietly out. He locks up the door and just flies down the stairs without even thanking the brunette for letting him crash at his place. He doesn’t turn around as he runs, doesn’t wants to hear his own brain wondering where the fuck he is going to do now, doesn’t feel the rose thorns that rips and slices his skin as the blood floods down to the edge of his fingertips; doesn’t even notice the white light that travels across the morning sky with a long colourful tail behind the shimmering stars, grand and beautiful. All he knows is that he never wants to stop running until he’s home, because if he does, he isn’t sure if he will be able to pick up all the pieces in his heart and glue them together again.

 _“I just wish that I could have him back again.”_ He whimpers silently into the early pinkish sunrise breeze.

-

     His fingers are shaking violently and the hair on his legs feels like thousands pieces of glass being hammered into his flesh. He can’t breathe properly, his ribcage is going up and down irregularly as he inhales the heavy air, because he is suffocating. He isn’t supposed to feel like this, he is only twenty for Christ sake! This is meant to be the time of his life, not the most miserable year that he has ever been through.

     Every day feels worse than the other. He wakes up of the sun that creeps through the blinds, tries to eat; but everything just reminds him about the food that Niall used to puke up. Then he goes to school, but nobody even notices him there anymore. The thing is that Harry had been rather popular before Niall took his own life. Not so popular that anybody would actually remember him in the matter of ten years, but people had still recognised his face as he went through the corridors, smiling brightly. But it seems to be that Niall had been the likeable of the two of them, because now that he is gone, nobody seems to care about Harry anymore. The only reason Grimmy still hangs out with him is because he pities him; plus Harry seems to be a magnet to get girls to come and comfort him and ask him what is wrong. That is the thing about Grimmy, that he is good-looking but not hot enough for girls to think that he is a proper guy the get laid with. The only thing that makes the girls at least a tad bit affectionate to him is when they realize that he is the nice guy that supports his depressed friend, but not affectionate enough to actually stay the night. Harry doesn’t feel like his friend is using him, because if it had been the other way around, Harry would have done the same thing. Grimmy has a great heart, but girls doesn’t seem to be remotely interested about the size of that organ, so if Harry can help him with his sorrow, then he is more than glad to switch this negative thing around to a positive one.

     “Harry,” His mother begins as she takes a mouth full spoon of cereal, “I want you to go out and have fun again.”

     He takes down the morning paper and looks disbelievingly at her. How does she dare to request that he should have fun when Niall isn’t there? Doesn’t she remember the blond little boy with the two crooked front teeth and with the prettiest smile in the entire universe that could light up all the stars at the sky with just his presence?

“I do have fun.” He states. “With Grimmy, since he’s the only remaining friend that I still have in life.”

“I know you have Grimmy. But Harry, he’s a thirty-year-old grown man, more than ten years older than you. You need to find a new…”

He throws away the newspaper furiously as the anger swells up inside his lungs. He can’t even see clear, because everything looks like a big mess blended into a wave of tears. His mum looks like she regrets the choice of words she just spoke, but it is too late, he won’t let her slip away a sentence like that without consequences.

“What do I need to do mother? Find a new Niall? Newsflash, I will never find a new Nialler! So just shut up, or else you’ll be as dead as he is to me from now on.”

     She gulps slowly and Harry notices a trail of sweat that slides down from her temple. He knows that she is really scared, because Harry normally never gets angry with someone and especially never with her, so if he is acting like this towards her, she has comprehended that this is something very serious to bring up at the table.

“Don’t you understand it mum? I loved him, and not just as a best friend, but as something more. But as the bloody idiot I am, I never said it until it was too late.” He confesses as he feels the treacherously tears slips down his flushing cheeks, hating them for coming so easily.

“I’m sorry baby, but I’m certain that you couldn’t have changed his mind anyway.”

He takes a deep breath and lets a bit of the anger inside his body slip out through the sigh that escapes his lips.

“Mum that isn’t what I’m trying to say. I wanted him to know that I thought that he was beautiful, just the way he was. That I didn’t care about how thin he looked like, or how much food he put on his plate. That I never found him eerie. But when I finally had gotten the courage to say it, it was impossible to change his mind.”

     He lets his eyes fall down at his hands, and he never unlocks the gaze from them to meet his mother’s pleading eyes, wanting nothing more than to see her son smile again without being high or drunk.

“It’s my fault, I should’ve told him how pretty he was when no one else did.”

-

     “How are you feeling today Harry? I mean, it’s the first time that you have come back to work since… since you know what.” Grimmy smiles sadly as he pats the brunette’s shoulder.

“I’ve felt better.” Harry answers truthfully. “But I’ve been worse too.”

“Good, good. That means that you’re going in the right direction. Just give it some time Haz, then at some point you’ll be a bit of your old self again.”

 _No I won’t,_ Harry thinks,  _because he took a bit of me with him when he flew away to heaven._ But he only nods his head in agreement, because he hates it when people pities him. Even Maura, Niall’s mother, does that and she is the one that has lost her child!

     “So… have you met anyone new yet?” Grimmy says casually, but Harry knows that nothing about Grimmy is casual, everything is well thought beforehand.

“Nick, you meet me almost every minute of every day. I think you would’ve noticed if I had found a lad or not.”

“Yeah, of course, I’m just being silly.” He groans as he shuts his eyes in embarrassment. 

     The small local is white and kind of cold, but not so chilly that he would freeze his arse of, no, the kind of cold that you imagine heaven is like. It feels peaceful too, and for the first time in almost a year, Harry feels like he can breathe for real, and not just that inhaling exhaling shit, but the lightness in his pit as the air covers his lungs with particles.

     “You know, I’ve been thinking.” Grimmy starts.

“That must be a first.”

“Yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself.” The older man sneers before he continues. “As I was saying, I’ve been thinking lately about something, or rather about someone. For a matter of fact, that someone is you Haz. I’m a bit worried about you. I see you having sex with random guys, getting high, and that’s fine, it really is… if you’re not Harry Styles. That Harry Styles that I used to know was never at bed later than 10:00PM, got always the highest marks, and never shagged anybody, because he was too caught up being all lovesick to his best friend, that by the way would’ve never recognised you as you’re now.”

     Harry looks at his friend, and for the first time in his life he feels like he wants to punch something. He has no right saying that he isn’t his old self, how can he be? His old self had been Niall’s best friend Harry, not just Harry. He has never known who he is by himself, so it isn’t weird that he tries to explore that.

“Excuse me, but who was it that recently said to that I should just give it some time? It’s not easy  _Nick._ I don’t know how to cope with his death, I’m lost!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’m not your mother; the ‘help me’ act doesn’t trick me. I know you, and you just have to get your shit together.” Grimmy growls before he takes a deep breath and looks darkly into Harry, brown eyes meeting green. “And yes, I know perfectly well that I said so, but I was just trying to be a good friend, and frankly, I’m beginning to feel quite tired of trying so hard when I get nothing in regain.”

“Well I’ve never asked for you to try! For God’s sake, if you’re so tired of me, just leave me alone then and let me die too.”

“I’m not Niall, Haz, I won’t leave you. Don’t you get that? I’m trying so hard for you to understand that I’m right here, that I’m not going anywhere.”

     Harry sighs loudly before he meets Grimmy’s gaze again, this time he feels defeated. Of course it isn’t easy for him, not when Harry is just being his normal miserable self all the time. Harry calls him in the middle of the night, crying his heart out, as he asks him to just pick him up and drive him to the cemetery. He is always there, and he has never really understood it until now how great he actually is, that he really does care about Harry and doesn’t just pity him.

     “You know, I’ve been thinking too. I think it’s time for me to begin that group therapy that the consoler suggested.”

“I think that’s a good idea Haz, a fucking great idea to be honest.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” He breathes out.

-

       He feels the thin fabric between his thumb and index finger, it tickles a bit and there are visible dry tearstains on it when he angles the photo. The lamp in the hallway reflects against the shiny surface, and it has created tiny stars and planets on the wall from it; his own little personal space.

     There is a cat in the picture, but he reckons that it must be dead by now. It’s been three years, and the last time that he saw it his mother had taken it to the vet. The thing is that she never returned him; she just said that he ran away. But if Harry has to be honest, he is quite certain that she was just trying to spare him the sorrow, but the loss from a friend and a cat is a bizarre difference. The cat isn’t the only thing in the picture, but there’s a laughing boy as well. Dark blue eyes with a tint of gold near the pupil and a million dollar smile on his lips. His blond locks dances around in the wind as he casually eats a hotdog, his dad’s denim jacket and a white tee shirt underneath.

     “I kind of like you.”

Harry had always thought that he was going to squeal of happiness when he would hear those words for the first time. He had made up a scenario in his head where his prince charming would sit on a white horse in the sunset, handing over the last red rose in the kingdom, and then they would live happily ever after together in the prince’s castle. But when it actually happened, those words put out from his dreams and formed into the reality, it wasn’t like he had imagined it. It doesn’t mean a thing, like he would literally care more if his new cat would puke because he had eaten too much shrimps that morning, than to want to actually hear those words from that someone that he doesn’t even like (or remembers the name of). It doesn’t make him to a heartless bastard, he reckons, it just makes him realistic.

     Baby-blue eyes looks at him with a shiny and watery gaze, and kind of hopeful too. But they aren’t the right kind of blue, not that amazingly pretty blue colour. They are plain and boring, and Harry can’t even find one remarkable thing about them. If it had been a tad bit later this day, then perhaps he could’ve been a bit gentler, but it is 07:00AM and Harry hasn’t gotten that much sleep this night since he is still drunk after the night before.

     “This is the part were you should say that you like me too.” The shorter boy with the light brown locks chuckles nervously, as he rests his head on the doorframe, feet attached to the threshold. “And not just as a friend, but as the person that you want to spend the rest of your ever living minutes with on the mornings, mouths full of toothpaste as we kiss.”

     Harry takes his hands in his as he strokes the small thumb with his own, seeing how the blue iris begins to sparkle like diamonds. He can feel how the boy melts into his touch, and a wide grin is painted on his pale cheeks, but it isn’t a million dollar grin, only a thousand dollar one. His skin is smooth and warm, and if Harry hadn’t recognised that look that he has, the one that says ‘I am so close to fall hopelessly in love with you’, he would more than willingly shag him.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten your name, love.”

     He can see how the smile disappears slowly, and the hope in the blue eyes exchanges to hurt and sadness. The hand that is holding his is now just lying apathetic in his palm, and he can see how the small shoulders are beginning to shake.

     Harry isn’t sure if he is supposed to hug him or not, but he decides that it is better if he just keeps his distance, because sometimes blokes that have gotten their hearts broken recently turns into monsters, and Harry has just gotten a new sweater, so he isn’t willing to risk that it is going to get destroyed just because of some lad.

“Louis, I’m  _Louis._ The same guy you fucked four times a month ago, and told that you loved. That’s who I am, you heartless idiot.”

 _Louis,_ he can’t remember who he is or if he have ever seen him before, but usually he just forgets whom he takes home for the night, or nights like it is in Louis’ case, because Harry is normally too high to moderate the sadness that comes lurking to him when no one else is looking. It isn’t like he wants to see the other lad hurt, it is just that he didn’t recognise him. And if his brain doesn’t even have the strength to remember him, he certainly doesn’t mean that much to him anyway.

    “I’m sorry Louis, but I don’t feel that way about you.”

He can see how the tears in those big orbs begin to develop right after he has said the harsh words. It isn’t until he has almost closed the wooden door that he hears the whisper  _“But I love you.”_

     Harry swallows a lump and blinks away the tears that are tickling behind his eyes fiercely as he closes the last distance between the crying Louis and the guilty Harry.  _“I’m sorry Louis, but you’re not him. You’re not the one that I want to be the last that tickles my star.”_


End file.
